


What Lies Ahead

by MeltedIceAngel



Series: ReWrite [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Canon Rewrite, Distrust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fist Fights, Good Sibling Merle Dixon, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Glenn Rhee, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Daryl Dixon, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltedIceAngel/pseuds/MeltedIceAngel
Summary: After managing to fix the majority of Glenn's health problems at the CDC, they thought it would be easier from then on out. They never thought that they'd have a run in with a horde of walkers, and they really didn't think the only way to escape would be a jump from the RV's roof down onto the hard cement below. The group is falling apart fast; Sophia's gone, Carl's bleeding out from a gunshot wound, and Daryl and Merle are quickly losing faith in these people they should've never trusted in the first place. Their group's kids are dying or dead, Daryl and Glenn's won't be next.





	1. What Lies Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Story number two for this series! Please make sure to read the first (though I have to admit, the writing is not my style of writing now. It will be edited soon!), or you will not understand what is happening. It's pretty self explanatory since I basically copied every episode word for word and added a few things, but otherwise, I'd recommend reading it. 
> 
> For all of those who are returning, welcome! I have completely modified how I write these stories to better suit an actual plot. (Yay!?) These are completely 100% focused on Glenn and Daryl rather than trying to follow the episode's plot line. I rarely mention anyone outside of them because this story isn't about them, and it took me a while to realize that a lot of the first was filler content. This is completely modified to suit the plot of this whole series, and I hope you enjoy the change! (I hope it's an upgrade in your mind, no less.) So you may notice some of the events of the episode are out of order, which is both intentional and I also am no longer following the show's story line to a T. It restricts a lot for me, and I want to be more free. This is a rewrite, so I am rewriting. There's no reason for every scene to end at the same place as in the show.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you so much for the love on the first story!

The drive to Fort Benning was long; two hours and fifty-five minutes of nothing but empty cars and blood-stained road. Glenn was tired of looking at it. He wished that his incision would heal, that something would give him the strength to get up and out of this makeshift bed before he molded to it. He already felt like his arms were sticking to the fabric as if the blanket was slowly stitching itself to the exposed skin of his body.  
  
It had only been forty-five minutes, and Glenn was losing his mind.  
  
Daryl had only asked if he was okay about forty-five times, which was a lot less than he’d anticipated. Once per minute was probably a bit tame for how much he really wanted to ask. At least Glenn didn’t have to hear ‘are you sure?’ Every second like he used to when Daryl had a harder time controlling his emotions and self-soothing. He loved his husband, and he understood his worry, but Glenn really wanted to have a conversation that didn’t remind him of the throbbing pain in his side.  
  
It was the first time in recent memory where he was in pain, but he could ignore it if he tried. He could finally overlook it because it wasn’t life-threatening and he knew that. The dull ache was nothing compared to the sharp pain from before. He wasn’t dying, his babies weren’t dying; everything was going to be alright.  
  
Jimin and Hyungseok, Glenn thought. Was it a good idea to give them Korean names over easier to pronounce Americanized names? Glenn wanted desperately to remember his grandfather, and having a tie to his old life with him using his own Korean name would help. His grandfather had been the only one to call him by that name lovingly, and he needed to hear it passed on.  
  
Jimin had always been a popular name, though Glenn knew that the name was intended mostly for girls. He would probably avoid that conversation topic if he could help it. Hyungseok, well, he’s not as sure of the popularity but the name still belonged to him, and he wanted to pass it on to one of his children. He wasn’t doing it to make sure his name continued, if anything, he was giving it away. He would no longer be Rhee Hyungseok, he would just be Glenn Dixon.  
  
It didn’t pain him to think about like he thought it would. Giving up something so much a part of who he was with his grandfather, the only adult figure in his life who ever truly cherished him. He hopes his grandfather was still looking out for him, that maybe he sent him Dale to take his place so he wouldn’t be as lonely whenever Daryl wasn’t around.  
  
Glenn rubbed at his belly, trying to talk himself into the fact he was pregnant, not fat, for the twentieth time in the last hour. He didn’t know where the sudden concern with his weight came from, especially after all he’d gone through just to gain it for his babies. He had been underweight, most likely still even with the twins, so he should be focusing his energy on gaining more, not falling back on bad eating habits to stave it off.  
  
“You have that look on y’ur face,” Daryl whispered, not wanting Glenn to lash out for being too overbearing.  
  
“Stuck in my head, I think,” Glenn whispered, grabbing Daryl’s hand and squeezing tight. “It’s all over the place.” Daryl understood. He knew what it was like to let thoughts consume him, pick at every bump in his composure until he wanted to rip the hair right out of his head. He couldn’t keep up sometimes; his train of consciousness fast and wild on rarely connected tracks.  
  
“Wanna talk about it?” Daryl asked, but Glenn just shrugged. The younger really didn’t want to, but it probably wasn’t for the reasons his husband thought. It just wasn’t as big of a worry as he was making it out to be. It was easily solvable with a change in conversation or a small distraction, so there wasn’t a point in settling on these thoughts when he was sure he had better ones buried underneath. The trouble now was that he’d worried Daryl, and when Daryl was worried, he wouldn’t let something go.  
  
“It’s okay, a lot has happened. I’m just trying to process.” Glenn tried to be reassuring, but he wasn’t sure if it worked. He used to be able to read Daryl so well, but with his mind clouded and slowed it was hard. It had been months since he’d last been able to really pinpoint what Daryl was feeling, and while it was frustrating for Glenn, it had to be more frustrating for Daryl. If Glenn couldn’t pick up on something, that means it got buried. If something got buried, it festered until it caused an explosion.  
  
“I wish I coulda fixed all this,” Daryl whispered instead of prying, and Glenn could sense the desperation that time. The need to figure out what the Hell was going on in Glenn’s head.  
  
“Don’t say that. None of this was your fault.” Glenn whispered. “You did fix all of this. Yesterday. I’m going to be fine.” Daryl had his head down as Glenn spoke, but the younger knew he was hitting something in his husband’s head. They had medication now, they had answers and a cure for his pain.  
  
“I love you,” Daryl whispered so quietly Glenn had to strain to hear him. He’d almost missed it, just like he always did whenever Daryl said those words. It was more comfortable now, but still, it was hard, Glenn knew. He knew the elder was still afraid, terrified of Merle overhearing and calling him a pansy; that loving someone was ridiculous and there’s nothing in it except complications.  
  
“Quick fucks, little brother. You’ll learn.” He’d once said, back when Glenn and Daryl had just gotten serious about their relationship. Daryl had flipped the man off, told him to go out without him for once, and that was the first step of many that Glenn watched Daryl take toward being the newer version of himself.  
  
“I love you, too,” Glenn responded. He wanted to say he loved him more, just like he always did to rile the other up. It was cheesy, he’d say, straight out of those shitty romcoms Glenn loved to watch. But after he was done complaining, he’d sit and ponder for a moment, before blurting out that he loved Glenn more than the younger could ever hope to love him. Glenn never saw Daryl for hours after those confessions, but it always made his heart flutter and his stomach flip until well into the night.  
  
There was something about hearing those words from a man like Daryl that always made Glenn feel so damn lucky.  
  
“Do you wanna sleep?” Daryl asked, and Glenn had to decline. He was so tired of sleeping. Glenn felt like he was missing such a huge chunk out of the last week, and the thought of having the same thing happen again was almost enough to be panic-inducing. Daryl nodded, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.  
  
“What?” Glenna asked, but Daryl made no move to respond. “I love you,” Glenn said again, and finally Daryl allowed himself to lean forward enough to press their lips together.  
  
God, it had been too long since he’d kissed his husband without fever brain making it hard to focus. Daryl was always so gentle with him, and this time was no different. His arms wrapped their way around Glenn’s back, one cupping his neck and the other rubbing soothingly over the curve of his spine. Glenn couldn’t help but sigh into the other’s mouth, his own hands running up Daryl’s arms until he could cup the elder’s face.  
  
It felt good, perfect, to be in this position again. Glenn could hear the sound of Dale and Andrea laughing at Shane and Merle’s muffled groans of disgust, but he didn’t care. He should be embarrassed, more in tune to his surroundings, but he couldn’t when Daryl was kissing him like he hadn’t seen him in years. They didn’t stop when they should’ve; not until Glenn gave a painful hiss as his movement tugged at his stitches.  
  
Daryl shot back like he was the one in pain, his mouth pulled down in a worried frown. Glenn immediately shook his head, lifting himself up a little more to reach for his husband before he could retreat back into himself. “I’m okay. Daryl, calm down, I’m fine.” Glenn begged, terrified he’d just broken something he wasn’t aware was so fragile.  
  
“I’m sorry-” Daryl tried to say, but Glenn was quick to silence him with another kiss. His stitches pulled at the fast movement, but this time he didn’t allow the pain to show. He couldn’t, not with Daryl teetering so close to the edge. Daryl’s mental health was always Glenn’s number one priority, no matter what. If that meant the dull ache in his side was throbbing relentlessly now, that was the price he’d pay.  
  
“Stop. I’m fine.” Glenn said as he pulled back, desperately trying to catch Daryl’s gaze. “You didn’t hurt me. I just moved too fast.” Finally, Daryl looked up, watery eyes locking onto Glenn’s own.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Daryl asked. Glenn bit his lip, breaking their eye contact to look at where his black t-shirt met his stained, dirty black jeans. The colors were off, he noticed. His shirt a little lighter than his pants, though that had never really bothered him before. Maybe he could-  
  
Daryl cut his thoughts off with a soft finger under his chin. Glenn looked back up from his clothes to stare into his husband’s eyes again. “Yeah, it hurts,” Glenn answered honestly, and without a single pause Daryl was laying him back down against the only pillow laid on the bed. His hands were gentle as they pulled Glenn’s shirt up enough to check on the incision, Daryl’s fingers running gently over the red, irritated skin all the way around the bandage.  
  
“At least it ain’t bleedin’ through it.” Daryl sounded relieved. Relieved enough Glenn could relax back into the uncomfortable sheets as Daryl peeled the bandage off at the corners, just enough to see underneath. They didn’t have anything else to put there once the tape wore down, so Daryl was careful to peel back only as much as he needed to before putting it back where it had been.  
  
“He alright?” Dale asked from the front, having just noticed Daryl checking over the incision. Glenn was glad they at least tried to give them privacy.  
  
“Pulled his stitches,” Daryl called back. Dale nodded but continued to look back at them in worry, only focusing on the road again when the highway became so backed up he had no other option.  
  
“Is it okay?” Glenn asked when Daryl spent a little too long staring.  
  
“Yeah, just…” Daryl paused, allowing his hand to run down to settle on the small bump just above Glenn’s waistline. Glenn smiled warmly at him, watching the way his husband’s eyes widened and relaxed as he took in the sight of their growing children.  
  
“Would it be weird if I said I loved you again?” Glenn asked, and Daryl chuckled. It was a beautiful sound, one that brought back that fuzzy feeling in his chest he’d lived so long without.  
  
“Dork,” Daryl said, his smile soft and fond. “Love you, too.” Glenn loved hearing those words, no matter how far between it was. Hearing it so many times in one sitting was so out of the ordinary that it left him a little breathless. This was the distraction he needed to pull himself away from all those negatives running around in his head.  
  
It wasn’t until another ten minutes passed that time really started to slug by again. Dale had been forced to stop the RV with a loud shout of frustration. There were too many cars blocking the road, and the RV simply couldn’t fit through them all. Merle and Shane had quickly hopped up and out of the vehicle, footsteps loud in the otherwise silent area around them. They were looking for a way through, Andrea told them.  
  
They’d found a small passage a few minutes later, and Shane made sure to guide Dale through the little break in cars that other survivors must have made. It was a strange layout, one that reeked of frantic bypassers. Glenn wondered why they stopped; why they created a passage so windy and hard to get through. It wasn’t as if it would slow anything down except themselves and others that passed by. Anyone on foot would easily make their way through, and what they were running from was always on foot.  
  
Glenn had already pulled himself up to allow his legs to dangle over the edge of the bed. He felt stiff and suddenly nauseous, and the sticky feeling of his own sweat mingled with old bedding wasn’t helping. Daryl allowed him to lean against his shoulder, tense with slowly rising panic. They were moving slowly, so slow that a slight jog would be more than enough to pass them up. Glenn understood he did, but he really just wanted Daryl to pull his shoulder down from his ear so Glenn could properly lay his head down.  
  
He really didn’t want to throw up again. It’d been too long already, and he was enjoying the break.  
  
The sound of the radiator hose breaking was one Glenn was used to. Apparently so was everyone else, if the collective groan of every passenger was anything to make assumptions over. Daryl immediately wrapped his arm tighter around Glenn’s body, his posture protective and nervous all mingled together. Glenn attempted to soothe his husband, whispering that they’d fixed the hose before and they could no doubt do it again. It didn’t help; if anything Daryl just seemed to get antsier.  
  
“Glenn, how’re you feeling?” Dale asked as he pushed the doors to the RV open.  
  
“Not too good,” Glenn answered with a shrug, feeling guilty but not at all like lying. He knew Dale would want him to help, but he really didn’t feel right. The pain was harder to ignore, and his nausea was hitting him hard. Jenner had said he still wasn’t out of the woods when it came to standard morning sickness, which at the time hadn’t seemed so bad. Now he wished he’d taken the nausea medication Jenner had offered.  
  
“Here,” Glenn jumped as a small bottle hit him right on the forehead. He whined a little despite himself, rubbing his hand over the sore mark. Daryl glared at his brother, but the elder just shrugged. “He needs it, don’t he?” Glenn sighed but grabbed the bottle where it had fallen back onto the bed, staring wide-eyed at the contents.  
  
Metoclopramide, the bottle read. The same drug that Jenner had offered Glenn only a few hours before the building was set to explode. Glenn’s heart raced a little, thinking about how Merle of all people had gone behind his back and gotten the medication Glenn was so sure he didn’t need. He tried to smile, but the nausea was still kicking his ass, and he really wasn’t as against taking it anymore. He took two pills dry, not wanting to waste even a drop of water when they were already rationing so much of it.  
  
“There, now can ya help old man Jenkins with the hose?” Merle asked, his voice grating and rude, but Glenn still caught the underlining worry in his tone. Merle was bad at masking it, having no practice with genuine feelings of concern or care in his lifetime.  
  
“I can try.” Glenn agreed finally, using Daryl’s arm for leverage as he stood on shaky legs. It had been almost seventy-two hours since he stood on his own, and it really took a toll on him.  
  
“You okay?” Daryl asked, looking Glenn up and down for any signs of distress. Glenn wasn’t sure if he was okay. The nausea was still there, he felt shaky, and a little light-headed, and his incision was burning and sore without the prescribed pain medication. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand on his own, even without nausea. “No way,” Daryl said suddenly, looking up at their audience in the front of the RV.  
  
“He’s the only one that knows anything about this,” Andrea begged, but Daryl remained firm when Glenn continued not to respond. He was trying, but the feeling of his stomach stretching at the incision site was too much to be ignored.  
  
“Okay,” Glenn said anyway. Daryl’s eyes shot down to him, his face shocked and betrayed. Glenn knew Daryl was pissed; he could feel it deep in his heart. Glenn had sworn to Daryl to take better care of himself, not to put himself on the line because other people can’t do things on their own. He promised, and here he was breaking that promise. “I need someone to help me stand,” Glenn added, desperately trying to ignore the way Daryl shook beside him.  
  
“I will,” Andrea said, but Daryl was quick to pull them both back and away from the woman.  
  
This would likely be the only time Daryl had an opportunity to go out and search for things they needed. He needed arrows, ammunition for his gun, or even new weapons. He needed water and food for Glenn, and maybe if he was lucky, he could start stocking up on baby supplies he happened across. There were hundreds of cars waiting to be raided, and he would be an idiot for passing the opportunity. Glenn needed him, but he needed him for something other than holding him up at that moment.  
  
“Merle, I swear to God I’ll kill you in your sleep if you let him get hurt,” Daryl said, looking up toward his brother. The man pulled his lips back over his teeth but nodded anyway. Daryl passed Glenn over to Merle, and the two slowly made their way toward the front. Glenn was limping, the whole right side of his body throbbing.  
  
“I can’t,” Glenn sobbed as they took the first step down from the RV. Merle lifted him up and into his arms, ignoring the way everyone looked so disgustingly fond for his quick thinking. Daryl was quick to follow behind, hopping down the stairs to soothe his now distressed husband. Glenn thought it would be nice to be out of the RV for a while, but after walking that short way, he wished he’d just stayed in bed.  
  
“Was the incision okay?” Dale asked quietly, though Glenn still heard. Daryl grunted as a response, but Dale still didn’t seem convinced.  
  
“If he’s in this much pain it might be getting infected.” Daryl bit his lip, running his fingers through Glenn’s sweaty hair. He knew that, but he didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to do about it. Jenner obviously had the foresight to know that antibiotics and pain medication wouldn’t serve them passed their supposed end date at the CDC, so they didn’t exactly have any options other than keeping it covered and hope for the best.  
  
“Look for antibiotics and Advil,” Dale said, patting Daryl lightly on the shoulder. Glenn reached out for him as he was about to leave to go look, suddenly desperate to have him near. He was so tired of having to sacrifice his own wants for other things that were more important.  
  
“I’ll be back, baby,” Daryl promised, kissing Glenn lightly on the forehead. Glenn nodded and let him go, his hands fisted at his sides to keep from reaching out again. Merle just walked him over to where Dale had started to take a look at the damage, and settled him down on wobbly legs.  
  
“Don’t think there’s anything we can do for it,” Dale said suddenly, hitting the vehicle with a frustration Glenn hadn’t seen out of him for a while. “I can’t even imagine where to find a replacement.” Glenn sighed, and despite his instinct, he settled himself back into Merle’s hold. He was exhausted, and the sudden realization that they’d have to search for more parts drained everything he had left in him.  
  
“Well, that won’t get us nowhere, will it?” Merle grumbled but didn’t push Glenn away. He instead looked around at all the cars, ignoring the way Andrea and Shane were staring at him as if he’d solve all their problems. “I’ll go look, you mope somewhere safe enough he won’t be in danger,” Merle said, pushing Glenn forward into Dale’s arms. It wasn’t enough to hurt any more than he already did, but Glenn still felt the way his stomach rolled at the sudden change.  
  
“What are you going to-” Dale tried to ask where exactly Merle was planning to look but didn’t get the words out as the elder Dixon stalked away. Dale sighed and held Glenn closer, rubbing the younger’s arm in a small apology for causing such an outburst. “Think you can make it up the ladder?” Dale asked, and Glenn just shrugged. He really had no idea what he could do anymore.  
  
The two made their way slowly up the RV’s ladder to the roof, Dale having to help more than once. By the time they made it to the top, Glenn was ready to collapse down and try to close his eyes, which is precisely what he did. Dale already took up his spot surveying the surrounding area, making sure Rick and the others knew it was safe. T-Dog and Daryl had already been long gone, but the others finally dispersed leaving only the two on the roof and Andrea who had gone back inside the vehicle.  
  
It probably wasn’t too much later that Dale gasped, dropping next to Glenn on the roof. The Korean jumped at the sudden change, lifting his head up to try and see what was happening. Dale shoved his head back down, not even bothering to say a word as the sounds of groaning flew through the air around them. Glenn’s heart was in his throat, the thought of Daryl still out on the ground enough to constrict his chest enough it was hard to breathe. Dale tried to calm him down; his hand was rubbing at his back. When that didn’t work, the elder opted for wrapping both arms around Glenn’s chest, his right hand pressed hard over Glenn’s mouth to keep him from making any noise.  
  
Glenn could hear the way one of the geeks stopped at the RV. His heart beat faster and faster the longer it seemed to consider whether someone was really inside. Andrea had yet to make any noise, but it didn’t seem to be enough to deter the monster from shuffling its way up the stairs and into the RV. Glenn held his breath, and Dale stilled as the sound of shuffling came from just below them. It walked slowly and paused just long enough to turn its body.  
  
The pounding of the door and the subsequent scream from Andrea was enough to have Glenn shouting startled, Dale desperate to shove his hand harder down on Glenn’s mouth to keep anymore sounds from escaping. The last thing they needed was geeks knowing they were up there. Glenn knew from experience that the damn things could climb ladders, and well at that. Dale put his fingers to his lips, telling Glenn to stay quiet before getting up and leaning himself over the window that leads down into the RV.  
  
“Dale,” Glenn whispered, hearing the way some of the geeks started scratching at the ladder up to where they were. Dale shushed him, motioning for him to get down lower. Glenn did, watching as Dale dropped a screwdriver down to Andrea so she could safely escape the geek that had made it inside. It went quiet inside, but the scratching from the ladder only got louder and louder until Glenn was sure at least one of them had figured out how to climb.  
  
Dale was about to join him again before one of the geeks shot itself over the side, a loud snarl permeating the otherwise quiet groans from around them. Glenn screamed, he couldn’t help it. There was no way he could hold it back when he had absolutely nowhere to go, and Dale had just dropped their only means of defense through the sunroof to Andrea. There hadn’t even been a lot of them left, just a few stragglers that fell behind the rest of the group, but one was enough to trap Dale and Glenn effectively.  
  
“Jump!” Dale shouted, shoving Glenn over toward the other side of the RV. He couldn’t comprehend what was being asked of him fast enough. One second Dale was telling him to jump, the next the geek was snapping in front of his face. Glenn screamed again, loud enough that the remaining stragglers turned toward them rather than the forest they’d initially been eyeing.  
  
Dale shoved the geek away, leaving just enough time to push himself and Glenn over the edge of the RV to avoid the other two that had managed to climb up as well. They hit the ground with a thud that was loud enough it echoed in Glenn’s ears, the pain from his incision paling in comparison to the pain now shooting up and down his spine. He was stunned, his eyes going in and out of focus as the walkers jumped down and landed just beside them. Dale was the first to move, shouting for Glenn to get up because Dale couldn’t carry him.  
  
“Glenn, I hurt my arm. I can’t carry you!” He shouted. “Glenn, come on!” The sound was foreign despite how long he’d been listening to Dale’s voice. It had been a month, right? Long enough his voice should be familiar.  
  
He was pulled from his spot on the ground by unfamiliar arms, and the scream he let out that time was entirely caused by the pain in his back rather than surprise. “I got you, I got you.” It was Merle, his voice panicked and airy as if he’d just run seven miles without a pause. They ran so far and so long that Glenn wasn’t entirely sure where they were anymore. They ran so far that the sound of the geeks was only a distant, unpleasant memory by the time Merle finally stopped, wheezing from the exertion.  
  
“Oh God,” Now that voice was familiar. Daryl fell to his knees beside where Glenn and Merle had dropped, his hands frantically running over Glenn’s frame.  
  
“Old man shoved ‘im off the damn RV.” Merle spat, and Glenn wanted to defend Dale. He really did, but the pain in his back and his stomach was too much and left no energy for defense.  
  
“Fuck. Glenn, look at me.” Daryl begged, and Glenn did. He used every bit of energy he had left to look up at his husband. He was covered in blood, caked with it all over his torso, and he smelled like death.  
  
“Okay?” Glenn asked. Had Daryl been bitten? Was he hurt? Where the fuck did all that blood come from?  
  
“I’m fine, baby. Fuck, he’s bleeding.” Daryl touched Glenn’s stomach lightly. It burned, and Glenn recoiled from the touch. He’d landed hard on his side, hard enough he’d bounced back up and fallen again on his back. He knew he ripped his stitches, could feel the way the incision oozed and throbbed as he laid dazed on the concrete. He’d been more concerned with his back at the time, but the feeling of blood quickly soaking through his shirt was more and more uncomfortable as time went on.  
  
“Shit, look at his side,” Daryl whispered, lifting his shirt up to show Merle. Glenn couldn’t see what they were talking about, but it apparently wasn’t pretty. He was sure he grazed it, ripped up the skin there as he landed. He didn’t know how bad that would look, but he knew how bad it felt.  
  
“Dale,” Glenn shoved out. “Where?” Daryl and Merle both glared, but Merle was the one to shrug his shoulders.  
  
“Ran the other way,” Was all he said. Glenn hoped to God he was okay. He’d gotten up fast, only complaining about his arm before Merle had grabbed Glenn. Maybe he’d landed easier since he knew it was coming?  
  
Once again, Glenn was shoved into a position he wasn’t anticipating as the remaining geeks made their way past. Daryl and Merle had pushed him under a car, both of them on either side and Daryl’s hand clasped over his mouth to keep him from crying out. It hurt, but not as bad as he thought it should have. By the time the last walker went by, his back had stopped aching as much, but his side and abdomen were on fire.  
  
“We need t’ find a first aid kit,” Daryl said, shoving himself quickly up and out from under the car. The two brothers helped Glenn out from under the car, making sure to support his back, so he didn’t scrape his side against the broken glass littering the ground around them. Daryl tried to carry him, but Glenn immediately declined. The feeling of being bent over was excruciating. He would walk, no matter how painful it was.  
  
Glenn made it about three steps before he decided it was just as painful to walk as it was to sit in Daryl’s arms, so he opted for the option that kept him closer to his husband. Daryl seemed much happier with that arrangement anyway, so it was a win/lose/win for everyone. Apparently, they’d gone quite a ways out from everyone else, and by the time they made it back, Glenn was ready to be put down again.  
  
“Daryl, it hurts,” Glenn said, and he knows how much Daryl is tired of hearing that. No matter what, it seemed like something would always lead back to Glenn saying that phrase, and every time he saw Daryl’s heartbreak more and more.  
  
“I know, baby. We’ll find something.” He said, but Glenn knew it was a long shot. What exactly would they find? Small bandages and some antiseptic? He hated being pessimistic, but his mind wasn’t exactly in the best place for optimism.  
  
“Where’d all the blood come from?” Glenn asked. While he’d initially wanted to be put down to avoid the pain for a while, now he wanted to avoid the smell of decay on his husband’s clothes. He hadn’t smelled it too well at first, but the more his senses returned to him, the more it assaulted him.  
  
“Dead guy and T-Dog,” Daryl said, more focused on their surroundings than the question.  
  
“T-Dog?” Glenn asked. He hadn’t lumped T-Dog in with the other dead guy, so he hoped he was right to assume the man was still alive.  
  
“Idiot cut his arm.” Was all the response he got. Glenn left it and turned his face away from Daryl’s chest, trying to avoid the smell as much as possible. He was nauseous enough without the constant onslaught.  
  
“There they are!” Carol shouted. Glenn could hear in her voice that she had been crying, and before long she had run to them and grabbed Daryl’s arm in her hand.  
  
“My daughter, she got chased. Help, please.” She begged, but Daryl didn’t say anything. He only kept walking, eyes set on Dale who was in the middle of allowing Andrea to bandage his hurt wrist.  
  
“You motherfucker,” Daryl growled. Glenn immediately tried to shush him, to explain what happened, but Daryl heard none of it. All he knew was his husband was shoved off the RV’s roof, his pregnant husband, and now he was bleeding and hurt in his arms.  
  
“I had no other choice!” Dale shouted before Daryl could get another word out. “If you wanted him to get eaten, I guess I could’ve avoided it. But if you wanted him to live then, that’s just what I had to do.” Daryl was quiet, but Glenn could still feel him shaking.  
  
“Help me stop the bleeding.” Daryl finally said, still ignoring the way Carol cried begging for help. Merle stayed for a little longer, just long enough to watch Daryl wrap the first bandage around Glenn’s abdomen before taking off to join the search party. By the time Daryl finished bandaging Glenn up, the rest of the survivors had already dispersed. Some to look for the girl, and others to continue searching for supplies. Glenn had fallen asleep somewhere in between T-Dog passing out and Dale getting chewed out by Andrea, which left Daryl alone again with his thoughts.  
  
Was he wrong to stay with this group? Merle had told him they should’ve left after the CDC incident, but he thought maybe he could trust them. At least Dale, all things considering. If they had gone, maybe Glenn wouldn’t be laying on the hot tarmac with his stitches ripped and a huge, blue and purple bruise all over his back and right side.  
  
Once everyone returned, it left Merle and Daryl huddled close around Glenn where he’d yet to be moved. Once the chaos calmed down, they decided it was for the best to not jostle him too much. They still didn’t know the damage done to him by the fall other than the outer contusions and Dale’s ultrasound that showed the babies moving and very much alive.  
  
“We should go,” Daryl said, and without a beat, Merle agreed. “Every time he’s alone with one a them somethin’ bad happens.”  
  
“Told you,” Merle said, but there was no malice behind it for once. Daryl just sighed and looked around at everyone. T-Dog was still slumped over in the same position he’d been in since the sun was still high in the sky, and everyone else formed some sort of smaller group to talk. The arguing had luckily stopped twenty or so minutes before, so it was a lot easier for Daryl and Merle to plan without being constantly interrupted by shrill, angry voices.  
  
“We can take any a the cars out here,” Daryl said, looking around. Merle just nodded his agreement, sighing when Lori and Andrea started up another argument. Rick, Shane, and Carl had yet to return, and with that seemed to be even more tension.  
  
Lori argued about trust, about people being unable to trust her and her family. Daryl wanted to laugh at her wounded tone and disbelief. Of course, Daryl didn’t trust her family; her husband had been a few seconds away from killing his own on multiple occasions now. Maybe if he thought through his decisions rather than jumping right into shit, Daryl would be more trusting.  
  
At that time, he wouldn’t trust a single person within a ten-foot radius of himself or Merle, and especially Glenn.  
  
Everyone settled after that final argument. It was getting late, and the tension was silent now rather than explosive and loud. Glenn had woken up once complaining about his back hurting, and with that Merle and Daryl decided it would be wise to move him to the RV’s bed again. T-Dog had been lead back with them, having been told to take the other bed that had once held Jim before the man was left behind.  
  
Glenn slept easier on the barely soft mattress. It was enough to keep Daryl from fretting anymore than he needed to. They’d decided that they would leave the next morning, assuming that Glenn didn’t take a sudden turn for the worse. It wasn’t as if the group necessarily had anything that would help if such a case were to arise, but it didn’t seem smart to vanish if it did.  
  
The two of them fell into a restless sleep after everyone had finally returned to camp. No sign of the girl, but they’d pick it up in the morning, they’d all agreed. It would be the perfect time to raid their camp and pack away everything they’d need before they headed out. It was doubtful T-Dog would be awake enough to object, and Dale had hardly been around out of fear of Daryl or Merle lashing out.  
  
They would be fine. Glenn would be fine if they just got away from these people. This was the last night they’d need to spend with them. 


	2. Bloodletting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, not much I can do with that.” She said, just as Daryl thought. “Gonna have to wait for the medicine.” She packed up her supplies back into her black bag and walked away, leaving the younger of the two to stare awkwardly at Glenn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long because I deleted over 3k words and re-wrote them. Sorry! Thank you for the comments and kudos so far. Happy you all are enjoying the changes and are looking forward to this story! Also, this story contains scenes from both Bloodletting and Save the Last One, but I have plans for the next chapter that need the full word limit I give myself per chapter, and it ends just as Save the Last One ends.

_ It was late in the morning, nearing twelve when Glenn finally managed to roll out of bed. He was still achy and tired, not wanting to start the day but unable to avoid it. His shift at work started in an hour, and he needed to shower. The night before had been rough, his mouth still tasting a little of bile and clothes sweaty and gross. He’d been too tired to change, and too embarrassed to wake Daryl again to help. The man had just fallen back asleep when Glenn got sick again.  _

_ The sun was high in the sky, wind pounding at the window. It looked like it would rain, which no one at work would be grateful for. Who actually enjoyed driving in the rain? Glenn sighed at the thought, lifting his phone and checking his messages to see if Daryl had made it to work safely. Instead of the one text he’d expected, he was bombarded with almost thirty missed notifications; some calls and some texts, all from Daryl. _

_ ‘Glenn, are you awake?’ The first one said. Glenn continued to scroll through them, swallowing as his heart started to pound.  _

_ ‘Don’t go outside.’ _

_ ‘Don’t open the door.’ _

_ ‘Keep the blinds drawn.’ _

_ ‘I’m on my way home.’ That last message had been sent only five minutes before Glenn woke up. He shot up and out of bed, drawing the blinds closed and locking the door to their small patio area. Daryl always left it open when he went to work; not wanting to go out the front when the parking lot was just outside the back door. There was no way to re-lock the door from the outside, but they’d yet to have a problem.  _

_ ‘Get dressed if you’re awake.’ Was the next message he received. He did, throwing on a plain white shirt and jeans. He didn’t know what was happening, why these messages had such an underlying sense of panic, but Glenn didn’t question it. He never questioned Daryl when he believed something to be dangerous, even if it was something as simple as not going near the fluffy white dog their neighbor owned.  _

_ Glenn was quick to pull his shoes on, shaky fingers tying the laces together as he waited for the sound of Daryl’s car pulling into the driveway. By the time he’d finished tying his shoe, he had heard the sound of someone parking a motorcycle outside their door. It wasn’t Daryl; Daryl always took their truck whenever he went to work on cloudy days.  _

_ “Yo. Open up!” Glenn groaned at the voice just outside their back door. Merle. It had already been months since they’d last seen him, and Glenn was just starting to hope the last time had been that, the last. “Darleena I swear to God I’ll kick your ass if you don’t open this damn door!” Merle shouted, banging on the door hard enough to pull the already loose hinges. Glenn jumped up from the floor and pulled the door open, fast enough that Merle’s fist very nearly collided with his face.  _

_ “Will you shut up?” Glenn shouted, pulling Merle into the apartment and slamming the door closed again.  _

_ “Don’t talk back.” He snarled. “Where’s Daryl? We need to go.” Merle jogged around the otherwise empty apartment, ripping Daryl and Glenn’s suitcases out from the closet and tossing them onto the floor. _

_ “What-” Glenn asked, but Merle just put a finger to his lips to shush him.  _

_ “Fill ‘em up. One with your clothes and one with food.” Merle sped through, getting up to go through their fridge. Glenn didn’t want to listen, but he did, knowing that if Merle found something bad enough to warrant this, then it had to be bad. Before Glenn had a chance to start deciding what clothes would be worth it to bring, Daryl’s keys fumbled in the lock. The man shoved his way into the building, not even bothering to pause at Merle’s calls before going to find Glenn.  _

_ “Hurry,” Daryl said, breathless and wild-eyed.  _

_ “I won’t ask, but I’d like to know,” Glenn said as he grabbed handfuls of each item of clothing the two owned. He had no idea what exactly he was bringing, only that it would cover their bodies.  _

_ “I don’ know. I jus’-” Daryl paused in his frantic packing. “I saw some kid get eaten by another kid on the way here.” Was all he said before slamming the top of their now shared suitcase down, lifting it and jogging out of the room with it. What the Hell was Glenn supposed to say to that?  _

* * *

 

Daryl was having one of the worst mental health nights he’d had for almost seven years. Everything was pissing him off; the sound of birds chirping, T-Dog’s breathing, the squeak of the bed whenever Glenn shifted. It felt like his whole chest was prickly, as if he was continuously poked with millions of little needles. He was losing his self-control slowly, the urge to cover T-Dog’s mouth or bolt the bed down becoming overwhelming. 

He just wanted the breathing and shifting to stop. Just long enough for him to take a deep breath and stop this irrational anger from seizing his whole upper body. It was never ending, the sounds and the thoughts and the need to just  _ make it stop.  _ The last time this happened was the first time he’d ever raised his hand on his husband, and he swore he’d never let it happen again. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t he just calm down?

The sound of him clattering up off the floor was likely loud enough to wake every person in the RV, but he didn’t care. He needed to get out. He needed to get away before he went crazy and hurt Glenn or one of the others. He stumbled the whole way out of the RV, hitting the driver’s seat where Dale was trying to sleep in his haste. The man didn’t stir, but Daryl didn’t stick around to make sure it stayed that way. The forest was calling him back, and he needed to get there. 

Far, _ far _ away from the noise. 

It was dark, probably close to three or four am. It was rare Daryl would wake up before or after those times back before he and Glenn had met. It was the golden hour for his anxiety and irrational anger to show itself; the overwhelming quiet mingled with random, small noises enough to cause a meltdown easily compared to a volcanic eruption. It was dark, the middle of the night, he was wild with panic, and he didn’t stop to grab a weapon or even plot a path.

By the time he stopped running, he was lost. So lost that he couldn’t hope to find his way back before morning, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t make himself care that Glenn would wake up without him there, that the group was already frazzled enough looking for the kid, that he could die because he was dumb enough to walk into a damn _ forest _ at night without a weapon. 

He plopped down hard onto the ground, pain shooting up his spine as he landed on the uneven ground. He screamed, long and loud and desperate for some sort of relief. He couldn’t take it. It was too much; his vision was clouded with a red that looked more like Glenn’s blood splattered all over the ground outside the RV than metaphorical anger. 

He could hear it, the crunching of fallen leaves and twigs. He didn’t hear their growls, but the stumbling was enough to know they were near. He didn’t  _ care _ ; all he cared about was that the snapping was the most frustrating sound he’d ever heard. It made him so violently angry, his hands shaking and throat clenched because all he wanted to do was scream again. Get out everything that was stuck buried because, maybe, he didn’t want to die at that moment. 

He heard the growls too late, not registering it until he had a mouth snapping in his face. The blood and saliva just angered him more, hating the feeling of being dirty but unable to avoid it. Daryl just screamed louder, shoving his fingers deep into the eye sockets of the monster in front of him. It didn’t deter it, the sound of teeth smashing together loud and echoing in Daryl’s ears. Once he realized sitting still wouldn’t help him, he jumped up enough to slam the geek onto the ground.

He hit it with a ferocity he hadn’t felt since he’d done the same to his shit excuse for a father. He hadn’t killed the man, only beat him enough he’d likely questioned whether he’d get up from the floor. The monster stopped moving after only four well placed strikes to the head, the snapping a distant memory. He continued to beat into the corpse. He needed to get these feelings out of him, and killing the cause of all his problems was a good start. 

“Daryl,” He heard from behind him. Only a whisper, a terrified whisper. Daryl stopped, his fist plunged deep into the hole that had once been the geek’s shit excuse for a brain. He turned slowly, coming face to face with a pale, fear-stricken Glenn. He was holding a flashlight, the beam pointing straight toward where Daryl had still yet to move his hand. 

“What are you doin’ out here?” Daryl asked. He knew how harsh he sounded, could see the way Glenn flinched at the tone. He didn’t care. He’d feel guilty over scaring his husband later. At the time, all he wanted to do was turn the geek’s head into mush and scream until his throat was raw and bleeding. “Get the fuck outta here!” He screamed, and Glenn flinched again but didn’t move. Of course he didn’t. He never had before, either. 

“Daryl, calm down,” Glenn whispered. He kept a safe distance, and for a brief moment, it hit Daryl that Glenn was afraid of him. That he was keeping his distance because he was aware that Daryl wasn’t safe to go near. It did nothing but make him even angrier, and with a loud cry he hit his hand down into the geek’s head again and again and  _ again.  _ Glenn just watched sadly, not daring to come closer but not backing away either. 

“I have your noise-canceling headphones,” Glenn whispered once Daryl stopped hitting the long-dead walker. Daryl breathed heavily, barely hearing the words but trying his best to comprehend them. Glenn’s voice was the only thing that he could hold onto, the magnet pulling all the needles loose and away from his body. “I know you get antsy with sounds.” Glenn was talking so casually to him, like he hadn’t just mutilated a dead man’s body for ten minutes. 

“Why are you here?” Daryl asked. He wanted to talk more than anything, hear Glenn respond, so he knew that this was all real. 

“You knocked over Andrea’s gun pieces. It woke everyone up.” Glenn said it without malice. He wasn’t upset that he was woken up, just worried that he had been wild enough to leave that he’d managed to knock something off the middle of the table. 

“How’d you get out here?” Daryl questioned that time. If he remembered correctly, Glenn couldn’t even walk properly when they’d gone to try and sleep. Glenn just pointed behind him, where Merle was leaning against a tree a few steps away. His lips were pulled back, eyes looking at him as if he was trying to piece this outburst into a database filled with conflicting behaviors. 

Daryl didn’t break down like that anymore. He hadn’t in years, so where did it come from? It wasn’t just the noise; he knew that. Those little things he blamed this on were as innocent as Glenn and T-Dog themselves. It was all of it; the walkers, the illnesses, the pain and suffering, the fact they had to even sleep in the RV in the first place. He missed home, his and Glenn’s little ratty apartment. He missed warm showers and food that didn’t come out of a can.

He missed Glenn being healthy. Not just with his illnesses, but with the injuries too. His husband’s blood would now forever cake that spot on the highway, and there was nothing he could do to change it. It may not be his fault that it happened, but it felt like it was. No matter what, Daryl couldn’t find a way out of Glenn getting hurt, and it drove him insane. 

Would he have rather him get bit or fall off the roof? It was an obvious answer. He didn’t know if he could’ve hidden his husband well enough had the need arose for it. He barely hid well enough. Daryl knew to dwell on what if’s was pointless. The way things went, Glenn was alive. Any other outcome could have killed him. 

Glenn limped over to him slowly, testing the waters to make sure Daryl wouldn’t lash out. He sat down next to his husband, not touching or talking, just waiting for Daryl to make a move. He didn’t. He just kept staring down at that walker as if he could crush it more with just his stare. Glenn sighed, putting a hand on his stomach and rubbing it slowly. If there was anything that could distract Daryl, it was that. 

True to experience, it worked. Daryl’s eyes shot up to him, and he watched the way Glenn paid careful attention to the now noticeable bump seen through his sweater. His mother had shown late with him, Glenn had once said. He doubted he’d really begin to show until he was five months in, so to see it now and even the weeks before was shocking. Daryl was just hoping that it was enough, that their babies were growing fine even with the lack of nutrients. 

Daryl scooted over, just enough to lay his hand atop where Glenn’s sweater fell against the bump. His breath caught, warmth flooding from his hand through his body as his fingers rubbed over the cotton. It still hadn’t hit him that those were his children Glenn was carrying. It didn’t make sense; Glenn could’ve had anyone, and he chose Daryl. The man that spat on him and refused to tip when he had just been another pizza delivery driver. 

“It’s really noticeable now, huh?” Glenn asked, pulling his sweater back to show off the bump a little more. It was, strikingly so. Daryl was sure his husband’s belly had been flat only a few weeks ago, and now it was rounded and jutting out just a little over his lap. He didn’t know if it was enough that a random person would assume he was pregnant, but it was obvious to someone that already knew. 

“You’re amazing,” Daryl whispered, allowing his hand to flatten over Glenn’s abdomen. The younger smiled fondly, leaning back to allow Daryl more room to explore. His hand ran so gently over their children, the complete opposite of how he’d been beating the dead walker into a bloody pile on the ground only a few minutes before. 

“Hey, we should get back,” Merle called, an interesting look on his face. Daryl and Glenn both looked up, catching the elder Dixon’s eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, no one daring to be the first one to break the spell that had fallen over them. Merle didn’t look twitchy or angry, just a little lost and confused. Glenn knew that look. He remembered Daryl having it a lot when he felt something he wasn’t sure how to react to. Love, contentment, happiness. 

“You can feel your nephews,” Glenn said, careful with his wording. Daryl knew it did something to Merle, because it did something to him. They were Merle’s nephews,  _ his _ sons. Merle’s face twisted, his lips pulled back and puckered out a few times. 

“Ain’t nothin’ special. People have babies every damn day.” Merle said. Glenn smiled like he’d just made leaps of progress despite having been rejected. Daryl didn’t know what exactly Glenn saw, but he was rarely wrong when it came to another person’s emotions. Merle didn’t scoff at the smile or get angry as if Glenn was mocking him. He just turned his face to look back at the camp, his hand motioning for them to hurry up.

Daryl carried Glenn back. He tried his best not to jostle him too much, but he was still shaky, and the uneven terrain made it harder. Glenn winced every time Daryl stepped up the hill, no matter how slow the older went. His husband’s hand was pressed to his right side, and his teeth were loud as they grit together to hold back the sounds he wanted to make. 

“You tired?” Merle asked as they finally came up to the camp. Glenn shook his head, saying he’d already slept enough. Merle led them over toward the small fire still crackling, settling himself down and motioning for the other two to do the same. “We needa talk.” He said as Daryl settled Glenn down onto the ground. 

“About what?” Glenn asked. 

“We were thinkin’ about leavin’ the group,” Daryl said. Glenn didn’t react, or maybe his lack of a reaction was one in itself. His face remained passive, his hand not moving from his aching side. 

“Okay,” Glenn said, shocking both of the men that had been anxiously waiting for his response. “But I wanna know that Sophia is okay first. Then we can go.” Daryl bit his tongue, knowing that arguing wouldn’t do him any good once Glenn made up his mind. The fact he agreed at all was a win; he didn’t need to push it. 

“Alright,” Daryl responded, glaring at his brother as his mouth twitched to argue. Glenn was carrying their children; he was likely thinking about the situation from Carol’s point of view. In a way, Daryl understood too. Maybe not from a mother’s perspective, but he still felt something. “We’ll look in the morning.”

“You don’ have to,” Merle said, but Daryl just shook his head. Merle wasn’t doing it for the reasons Daryl would be, so his motivation would be lower. He and Rick were the only ones that understood on a similar level. Even Shane, who he’d thought was Carl’s father, had questionable motives. He didn’t seem to want to look at all, let alone fully search for the girl.

“Daryl, I don’t know,” Glenn whispered. He was playing with the loose strands on his black shirt, his fingers shaky and eyes down at the ground. “I don’t feel safe without you.” Daryl bit his lip, his heart constricting in his chest. He needed to find the girl, but Glenn was right to be afraid. That fear was the whole reason they wanted to move on in the first place. 

“Like I said, you stay,” Merle said, tossing more wood into the fire to keep it going. Daryl stared at it for a moment, accepting Glenn into his lap when the younger shuffled his way there. He leaned his head down until his chin was resting on his husband’s shoulder, and he sighed at the feeling of Glenn’s fingers running through his hair. Merle got up once their positions changed, mumbling about being tired and wanting to sleep more than half an hour. 

“Don’t leave,” Glenn begged, scooting back until his back was pressed into Daryl’s chest. The elder wrapped his arms around Glenn’s midsection, pressing forward to try and get closer. He wanted to feel them meld together, their atoms morphing to become one. Daryl’s hand glided down Glenn’s abdomen, catching on a patch of wet fabric. 

“Ah, that doesn’t feel good,” Glenn said, pushing Daryl’s hand away. The elder switched their positions, so Glenn was straddling him, allowing him to lift his shirt and inspect the poorly bandaged incision. 

It wasn’t bleeding, but it was dripping a yellowish discharge. Daryl sighed, wiping it away with a spare blanket someone left beside the campfire, not thinking of whose it might be. Glenn hissed but didn’t flinch back again. He wished someone had found a sewing kit, or maybe even a first aid kit with stitching equipment inside. It wasn’t going to do much good to leave it the way it was, with only half of the stitches remaining in place and the other half without them seeming to always ooze something nasty.

“Let’s go to bed,” Glenn said, lifting himself up and out of Daryl’s lap. He pulled his shirt down and over his belly, ignoring the way it stuck uncomfortably to the bandaging. 

Sleep didn’t come easy, and Daryl was up again before the sun had enough time to break through the trees. Rick, Merle, and Shane had already set out to start looking for Sophia again, and the rest of the group was passed out in various places around the campsite. Daryl still felt strange. There was a tingling in his arms and a lump his throat that made him want to run. There had to be more walkers, enough at least to beat out the last of his anxiety. 

But Glenn was pale in his bed, sweat dripping onto the bed as if he’d just come out of the shower and hadn’t yet dried off. Daryl put his hand onto Glenn’s forehead, hissing at the heat that radiated off him. Perhaps Jenner hadn’t done them much good. Daryl thought that the stitches themselves were enough and that they could compile enough supplies to keep the actual incision from getting infected. 

Jenner knew they were going to die. He knew that Glenn would never feel the pain of the incision; he’d never need to clean it or rebandage it. It couldn’t get infected because he would be nothing but atoms only hours after the surgery itself. Daryl didn’t understand why the man bothered to do it in the first place. It was the one question he wanted to be answered, because he couldn’t imagine doing something when it held no purpose. 

He wondered if, maybe, Jenner didn’t know what he was doing. The man was a scientist, not a doctor, and the supposed rotation in surgical didn’t come up again even in conversation regarding his experience. His stitching had been clumsy, and it had taken three or four tries to even find a vein in Glenn’s hand to insert an IV. Daryl should’ve known this would happen. You can’t expect a dermatologist to be able to perform surgery, so why did Daryl think a scientist could?

Jenner had warned them before they left, telling them that death was imminent no matter what. He hadn’t mentioned walkers, and he’d directed his attention to Glenn when he’d said it. He knew this would happen; he had to have. Otherwise, he’d have never said something like that. 

The only thing Daryl could do for him was to keep him cool and pray someone would find something as they raided the cars. Find what, he didn’t know. He should’ve known when he saw the discharge that the incision was infected, but the little voice in his mind kept steering him away from the idea. They hadn’t been taking care of it, but the situation couldn’t get worse. It wasn’t possible, and yet it did anyway. 

The incision was starting to turn a dark red, with small veins in a lighter shade of the same color sprouting off in every direction. It still had yet to bleed again, but that didn’t mean much when pus leaked out of it like a faucet. The incision wasn’t wide or gaping, but it was not meant to be opened up like it was. The lack of proper stitching was making everything worse so much faster.

Carol returned two hours later with a medical bag from a car almost half a mile up the road. It contained everything from stitching supplies to two full bottles of hydrogen peroxide. She stitched up the incision with careful hands, dousing it with the peroxide and rebandaging it again. It didn’t seem like anything was going to change, and sure enough, it didn’t. 

Glenn didn’t deteriorate fast, or even at all throughout the day. He didn’t get better though either, which meant whatever they did either didn’t work or worked just enough. Daryl wasn’t sure he wanted to know which it was. He didn’t want to think about what would be happening at that moment if they hadn’t found the supplies. 

The sun was already starting to set when they heard it. The sound of gunfire was coming from the direction of the woods Sophia had disappeared into. Daryl barely flinched; he knew there were walkers out there and the odds of them running into one were high. The others in the group weren’t as calm, making a scene by the rock pit they used to make their fire. They were yelling high pitched, loud enough to jostle Glenn from his already fitful sleep. He wanted to strangle every one of them; the feeling multiplied each time his husband groaned in pain. 

“I just want to know if they’re okay. Carl’s with them.” Lori bit back to whoever had challenged her, and while Daryl didn’t blame her for worrying, he still wanted her to shut her mouth. 

“Yelling isn’t gonna bring them back faster.” The voice was too quiet to place, but Daryl still made out the words. After that, everyone went silent again, a heaviness in the air that hadn’t been there before. 

“They’re not back?” Glenn asked, smacking his lips together. They had run out of bottles of water, and the others had essentially wasted the large amount they’d found on washing blood and dirt off their tired bodies.

“Nah, it ain’t even dark yet,” Daryl said, squeezing the last of the water from a damp hand towel into Glenn’s mouth. 

“Heard a gun,” Glenn said, settling himself deeper down into the bed. Daryl just grunted, shocked by how lucid Glenn seemed despite his high fever. If there was one thing Daryl couldn’t handle, it was his husband with a high fever. The man would cry relentlessly, unable to tell him exactly what was wrong or how to help. He felt bad, but it also drove him a little mad at the same time. 

“Sleep. You need it.” Daryl said, tucking the blanket over Glenn’s body underneath his hips. The younger just sighed and closed his eyes again. 

If it weren’t for the overwhelming silence in the camp, Daryl would have thought the others were still around. They must have left after the conversation about the gunshot, but his mind was too occupied with his husband to acknowledge their absence. T-Dog was no doubt still in the camp, but he said nothing and Daryl didn’t care to find out either way.

The silence did him a lot of good. It allowed the thoughts from the past few months to settle so he could work through them. He had a lot to think about, most of which surprisingly revolved around situations other than Glenn’s pregnancy and Merle’s lack of sense. He thought about the walkers, and how exactly they came about and why. He never mulled over the thoughts before. All he thought about was getting away from them, but now he needed some sort of closure. 

His children had names. They were visible even under Glenn’s more baggy clothes. He wanted to know why these things stole their futures from them. He would never get an answer, and that ate at him, but perhaps he didn’t need one as much as he wanted one. He could live without someone telling him that the CDC released a toxin or man-made disease that caused all of this. Perhaps aliens caused it. It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change anything.

Daryl let his thoughts wander to his children again. Jimin and Hyungseok. They were hard to pronounce, especially in the manner they glided from Glenn’s lips, but not impossible to say. He already had a vague idea of what more Americanized names he’d want to give them if Glenn wasn’t against the idea in the future. 

It was Jimin’s that came to him first. Jamie, it rolled around his head for a while before settling nicely. The names were similar, and both had a lightness to them that no one in Daryl’s family line had ever had. Daryl and Merle were fitting names for him and his brother, what with their strong bodies and resting bitch faces. Everyone always said the only Daryl's they’d ever met were assholes, and he wasn’t sure if he could disagree. 

Jenner mentioned that one of the twins was already smaller than the other, and both he and Glenn knew immediately that the smaller twin would be Jimin. Jamie. He hoped Glenn didn’t hate the name, because it fit so perfectly in his mind that it would be a shame to lose the opportunity. Hyungseok sounded stronger, amplified by the usage of hyung in Daryl’s mind. Hyung was the older brother, and it made sense for the eldest to be stronger. 

Not that they even knew which one would be born first. Jenner had said that their statures would’ve been strikingly different, if their sizes at the time were enough to go off of. He wasn’t a gynecologist either, so taking his word for it felt like a mistake. Regardless, Jamie felt like a fitting name for the smallest of their two children.

Hyungseok, he didn’t really have an idea for. None of the ones he came up with had the same ring, or similarity like Jamie did with Jimin. He’d thought Scott was decent at first, thinking it sounded decent next to Seok. He had never settled on it though, and he wasn’t sure if he’d bring it up if he ever dared to talk about it with Glenn. The other had mentioned early on that it was normal for mixed families to name their children two things, representing each of their heritage. Perhaps it would be fine.

It turned out that both Dale and T-Dog had stayed behind, both of their voices loud over the sound of running. Daryl was finally curious enough to peak his head out of the RV, seeing the panicked faces of each of the group except Rick’s family and Shane. Daryl took a glance back, making sure that Glenn was still asleep, before hopping down and making his way over to the group.

“What happened?” Daryl asked, taking a space between Dale and Andrea in their circle like formation. 

“Carl got shot,” Carol said, running her fingers through what remained of her hair. Daryl’s throat seized, the breath knocked forcefully from his chest. He knew this group was incapable of caring for one another, but for a child to get hurt in that manner? He needed to get Glenn away from those people.

“They found a farm, dude with medical experience,” Merle told him, knowing what Daryl was thinking. The two stared at each other for a moment, communicating silently. There was no way they could pass up medical supplies, and they especially couldn’t pass up on someone medically trained. Daryl sighed, bowing his head so low his chin touched his chest. 

The conversation didn’t spiral down like most of the others. If anything, it flowed smoothly, everyone talking without anyone trying to argue. If someone didn’t agree with a suggestion, someone calmly offered an alternate solution rather than immediately jumping down their throat. It was decided that Daryl, Merle, T-Dog, and Glenn would find the farm and join up with the others. Both Glenn and T-Dog had blood infections that needed to be treated, and Daryl and Merle were the easiest options to send out. 

T-Dog wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea, but he seemed too sick to say anything in retaliation. All he did was close his eyes for a long moment, resigning himself to a drive trapped with the two Dixon brothers and Glenn. 

They were quick to move out after that. Merle reluctantly helped T-Dog into the back seat while Daryl gently placed Glenn beside him. Both of them had their teeth clenched, hands over their respective wounds. Daryl’s eyes lingered for a moment on his husband’s hand, pressing his lips together at the sight of blood. They needed to hurry.

They didn’t arrive until well after the sun had gone down, and by that point, both Glenn and T-Dog were slumped over in the back seat. T-Dog’s breathing was ragged, sweat pooling and dripping down his face. Glenn looked to be faring a little better, his breathing smoother and the only troubling fluid being the now dried blood on his hand. Daryl gathered Glenn into his arms while Merle grumbled and helped T-Dog out of the car so they could start the walk toward the house.

They were greeted by a woman, her hair shortly cropped and a rifle held protectively in her grasp. She looked them up and down with a questioning look on her face. “Can I help you?” She asked. 

“We’re part of Rick’s group,” Merle said, biting and short and not at all helpful. The woman just nodded and stood from her chair, walking slowly over to the two men nodding off helplessly as they waited. “Neither of ‘em bit.” 

“I cut myself pretty bad,” T-Dog said, wanting to get out of Merle’s grip as soon as possible. 

“Him?” The woman said, motioning toward Glenn.

“Surgical wound got infected,” Daryl said. It was enough information for her to make a decision. 

“Kay, I’ll let ‘em know you’re here. I’ll make you something to eat.” She responded, motioning for them to follow her into the house. 

It wasn’t much longer before two more women appeared before them, the elder carrying a black bag that shuffled as she walked. She pointed to a chair at the wooden kitchen table, and T-Dog fell into it with a loud thump. It felt like an eternity before she’d finished stitching the wound and disinfecting it. She mentioned that they didn’t have any antibiotics on hand and that it would take a few more hours before Shane and a man name Otis returned with them. 

“Him next.” The woman said, motioning for him to sit in the chair. Daryl settled Glenn down but didn’t exactly know what more she could do for him. They’d already restitched the wound with the rest of the sutures that were in the medical bag, and they’d rebandaged and disinfected it only a few hours before. T-Dog had taken a back seat because of the added risks associated with Glenn’s incision getting infected, but it seemed like they were both finally on equal ground.

“Yeah, not much I can do with that.” She said, just as Daryl thought. “Gonna have to wait for the medicine.” She packed up her supplies back into her black bag and walked away, leaving the younger of the two to stare awkwardly at Glenn. 

Daryl hadn’t realized it until the girl made such a scene out of staring, but Glenn was rubbing his belly. Not in the relaxed way Daryl was used to, but in an almost frantic way that betrayed his inner panic. The older leaned down in front of him, blocking the girl’s view of Glenn’s hand. 

“Breathe,” Daryl said, but Glenn just choked on an inhale and spat on the way out. His fever had gotten worse on the drive over, and Daryl knew what his husband’s real fever brain looked like. This wasn’t normal anxiety that he could talk him out of. “Do you have fever reducers?” Daryl asked, and the girl shot up to go and grab some. 

“Here.” She said, handing him two Advil tablets and a glass of water. Glenn swallowed them with great difficulty, spitting the water back up after it got stuck on the way down. Daryl didn’t flinch at the cold water hitting his face. 

“You’re okay,” Daryl said, and finally, Glenn managed to swallow an entire gulp of water. He was shaky, and his body was tilting a little to the right. The girl motioned for them to follow her, leading them to a spare bedroom next to the one Carl was supposed to be occupying. Daryl helped Glenn into the bed, making sure he didn’t lay on his side. 

He didn’t know if they had a few more hours. Not with Glenn, and not with T-Dog. Daryl hoped that Shane would come through just once. 

  
  



End file.
